


Sailing on Dark Tides

by bittergrin



Series: Sand, Tide, and Flame [2]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Body Horror, Cthulhu Mythos, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittergrin/pseuds/bittergrin
Summary: Spot Conlon was four when his mother disappeared.Racetrack Higgins was three when his parents were murdered.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Sand, Tide, and Flame [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142681
Comments: 31
Kudos: 20





	1. How to Get Away with Murder

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in 2018/2019. It's not yet completed, so more characters and relationships may be added to the tags.

Spot woke up still in his clothes from the day before. His arm was pinned under Race and he’d lost all feeling in it. At least it was his good arm and not the one in the cast. He wondered if that was something his werewolf roommates had to worry about. He’d have to ask Race, assuming they were still speaking.

He moved his free hand to the key around his neck. He couldn’t get a good grasp on it due to both the cast wrapped around his hand and the weakness left in his fingers after they’d had to reconnect his tendons. He knew he was lucky they’d been able to reconnect them at all. That shark jaw had been freaky, but he hadn’t even thought before trying to pry it off Race’s leg. Of course, if he’d known the blond idiot was a werewolf he might have left him to deal with it. His fingers paused while stroking the key. No, he would have pried it off of Race anyway.

Spot knew he was trying very hard not to think about his mother. He had no idea where to even start. He still wore the key she’d left him. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d taken it off, but he hadn’t thought about it in a long time either. It was just always there.

Hannah Conlon had been part of a cult. A cult where the leader could actually do magic. Was it even still called a cult at that point? Whatever, the important part was that she was part of the group that had killed Race’s parents. His mother had been there when the parents of the boy he’d been in love with for over two years were murdered. She hadn’t looked happy about it, but she hadn’t done anything to stop it. Not that there was much he thought his mother could have done against the type of power that Pulitzer guy had.

Was her disappearance related to it? She’d disappeared just a month or so after the events they’d watched in the mirror. She’d had time to leave him the key and call the Office of Children and Family Services on his father. He’d assumed she just couldn’t deal with his father anymore and had never wanted a kid. But now? Now he wondered if there’d been another reason. Would Weasel know where she’d gone? Or Pulitzer? 

Spot looked down at Race. He was still asleep, his blond curls messy and tangled after two days in a cold abandoned building. He was still beautiful, an angel in need of a shower. What would Race think of him now though? His fingers stroked the gold key again. Hell, what did he think of himself now? He hadn’t missed how the odd shape of his mother’s eyes was, a detail he’d forgotten about over the years, his father had burned all the pictures, and everything else she’d left, rather than let him have anything to remember her by. Except for the key. He hadn’t missed that his mother shared those eyes with a bunch of the other cultists, including Pulitzer. She was related to them, which meant he was related to them. He was related to the man who killed Race’s parents.

He decided to go back to trying not to think about it.

“I can smell the smoke, what are you thinking about?” Race asked without opening his eyes.

Spot frowned before answering, he hadn’t wanted to disturb Race. “Nothing. Or everything. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Yeah…”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.” Race opened his eyes and met Spot’s gaze. “I always wondered what happened to them. Now I know. But it doesn’t change anything, they’re still gone.”

“At least now you know why.”

“I don’t though. I know how. I know who. I don’t know why. Why were they fighting in the first place?”

“I mean, it sounded like that Pulitzer guy wanted to start a war with the rest of humanity. That seems like a pretty good reason for your parents to fight them. Especially if what Dave said about you guys being meant to protect us normal folk is true.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just… I was so focused on finding out what happened, but finding out didn’t make it feel any better. I don’t feel any different.”

“What were you expecting?” Spot asked.

“I dunno, closure or something? What is closure anyhow?”

“The feeling that you’ve resolved the trauma, at least according to psych 101.”

“Well nothing is resolved. I still got buckets of trauma.”

“So, what now, sweetness?”

Race burrowed further into Spot’s side, relieving enough of the pressure on Spot’s arm that it started to flood with pins and needles. “Maybe try to find the house they died at?”

“If it’s even still there. It should be pretty near Ma’s place, but I sure as fuck don’t remember any super-obvious haunted houses in the neighborhood.”

“Even if the house is gone, the creepy stone basement must still be there. Not the sort of thing you can move.”

“Probably filled with traps though.” Spot held his cast in front of Race.

Race blushed. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?” He grabbed Spot’s arm and kissed one of his fingers.

Spot flicked him in the nose. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“God help me, I do.”

“We’re such idiots.”

“Excuse you. You’re the idiot.” Spot threw his hand to his forehead in the most dramatic gesture he could manage. “I’m a werewolf, no one will ever understand me, I’ll just never date.”

Race blew a raspberry at Spot. “Fine, mock my pain.”

“Seeing as how you’re the cause of all of my pain, I think I will.” Spot paused and looked back down into Race’s blue eyes. He brushed a matted curl off of his face. “We still good, then?”

“What, you think I’d break up with you just because your mom was part of the murderous cult that killed my parents?”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“Aint happening.” Race threw both his arms around Spot and hugged him like a child with a teddy bear. “Besides, my parents didn’t exactly look blameless in that whole thing.”

Spot started to protest, but Race squeezed him and he fell silent.

“No. They weren’t aiming to take prisoners that first night. I don’t know why, I don’t know what it musta been like watching all your friends and maybe family get hunted down by a fish cult, but… okay, I lost track of where I was going with this, but we’se not our parents, and I spent too long wanting you, to give you up over something neither of us was involved in when we were three.”

“I was four.”

Race smacked him in the chest. “Whatever.”

Spot kissed the top of Race’s head.

Spot and Race had missed all their classes for the day. It was after two when he and Race climbed out of bed. Spot went to take a shower, while Race risked naked Jack and David to go look for some clothes in his room. Back when he moved in, Spot had not expected to be the most modest person in his dorm room. David seemed more the type to be modest, but the boy was, if anything, even less-modest than Race. Spot guessed that if you grew up in a family where anyone could shred their clothes at any moment, then you learned not to worry about nudity. He kept his shower short, just long enough to wash off the grime of the last two days. He toweled off and pulled the plastic cast cover off of his arm.

He wiped the steam off the mirror and stared at his reflection. Were his eyes that big yesterday? He leaned in and looked closer. His eyes were the same color as his mother’s. He wished he’d brought his phone in with him. He’d taken some video of his mom in the mirror. Shit, had he even plugged it in last night? Spot shook his head, and his eyes drifted down to the key around his neck. He’d assumed it was brass or something. There was no way any member of his family had been able to afford actual gold. But those fish-men had a lot of gold, or at least that electrum stuff. But the key couldn’t be that stuff, he and Race had been intimate enough that he would know if it was silver. He felt heat rising in his cheeks as he remembered what Race felt like pressed against him.

“Hurry it up, Spotty. I need to do my beauty routine,” Race said from outside the door.

Spot grinned and shook his head. Race was finally his, why had he wanted him again? He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door.

Race froze when he caught sight of him.

Spot stepped out past him, being careful to press his body against the taller boy’s as he did so. “All yours, your majesty.”

Race just stared at Spot.

“Hey, my eyes are up here.” Spot put a finger under Race’s chin and tipped his head up until their eyes met.

Race moved so he could stare at Spot’s chest again. “I know where your eyes is, but I’m here for the gunshow.”

Spot groaned and shoved Race toward the open bathroom door. “Go. Shower. You smell like an abandoned building.”

Race stuck his tongue out but went into the bathroom and closed the door.

“If you’re done flirting, put some pants on and get in here,” Jack said through the open door to his room.

Spot gave the door of his brother’s room a dirty look, but he went to his room and pulled on a t-shirt and some sweat pants. Then he walked over to Jack’s room and fixed his brother with the same dirty look.

“What do you want?”

“We need to discuss what we’re going to do now,” Dave said.

Spot frowned. “Don’t you think we should wait for Race?”

Jack and Dave looked guilty as they glanced at each other.

Spot’s frown deepened and he fixed them both with his best glare. They squirmed a little, and Spot kept it up until one of them broke. He wasn’t surprised that Jack broke first.

“We’se just concerned he may not be thinking clearly. He just saw his parents murdered. Hell, I don’t think any of us are thinking clearly after this weekend.”

“You’re not wrong, but we’re not talking about this without him.”

Jack started to say something, but Spot quelled him with a look. A glance told him that Dave wanted to say something, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut for once.

They sat in silence except for the sound of Race singing "Look What You Made Me Do" in the shower.

“So, I take it you two are okay? About the whole thing with your mom’s?” Jack asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” Spot smiled, “Yeah, we are.”

“Good, because if the two of you went back to being idiots now, I’m not sure we could take it,” Dave said.

Spot snorted. “That’s the one and only time I’m going to let you mouth off to me like that without retaliating, and only because it’s true.”

Race’s voice became clearer when they heard the water shutoff, and it was only a short wait before the bathroom door opened and he walked into the room, naked.

“Racer!” Spot said, jumping to stand between him and the two boys sitting on Jack’s bed.

“What? They’se seen it all before.” Race stopped and looked Spot in the eye. “Hell, they both saw it before you.”

“Just because they’se seen it before don’t mean I want them seeing it again.”

“Look, Spotty, this possessive thing you’re doing is, like, super hot, but I’m officially declaring this a clothing optional dorm room.”

“You aren’t the king of the dorm room, you don’t get to make unilateral decisions like that,” Spot said.

“Fine, all in favor of the Werewolf Suite being clothing optional, raise their hands,” Race said and raised his hand.

Spot didn’t need to turn around. “They’se both raising their hands and grinning like loons, ain’t they?”

Race nodded.

“Dammit.”

“As hilarious as this is, can we finally discuss what we’re going to do now?” Jack asked.

Race turned to his dresser and rummaged aware for some underwear. “What’s to discuss? First we kill Weasel, then we hunt down that Pulitzer guy and off him. I’m still debating about the Delancey brothers.” Race found a pair of underwear that passed his smell test and pulled them on.

“Okay, Oscar and Morris are dicks, but I don’t think they deserve to die. I mean, strictly speaking, your dad offed theirs,” Jack said.

“Which is why I’m still debating it.”

“And you’re definitely overestimating our planning abilities if you think we can literally get away with murder. We couldn’t sacrifice a goat without getting caught by a nagual, an oboroten, and the world’s only werehyena,” Dave said.

“So we get better at planning then. “ Race hummed while pulling on some sweatpants, then turned to face Spot again. “Hotshot must know how to get away with murder, right?”

“Okay, first, he’s not that type of lawyer,” Spot said.

Race waved his hand as he crossed the room to sit on his bed facing Jack and Dave. “Yeah, but they still have to learn all about it in law school, right?”

“You do know that  _ How to Get Away with Murder _ isn’t a documentary, right?” Dave asked.

Race waved his hand again. “Close enough, and besides, he’s a werewolf, like us, it sounds like you guys kill people and cover it up all the time.”

Dave looked like he was about to say something, but stopped himself and frowned. Spot found himself worrying about how his roommate had been raised if he couldn’t argue with what Race had said.

“Look Racer, I get that you’re angry. I get that you’re hurt, but becoming a serial killer is not the right answer here,” Spot said.

“They started it.”

“Strictly speaking, we don’t know that. The local packs might have attacked them first,” Dave said. “Harold was pretty aggressive.”

“I know you three aren’t suggesting we just let them get away with murdering my parents.”

Spot exchanged looks with Jack and Dave. Jack’s look screamed, ‘I told you so.’ He sat down next to Race on his bed and took his hand, giving it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze as he did.

“That’s not what we’re saying, but we can’t just run off and kill your high school principal. He’s not even the one who murdered your parents, that was Pulitzer. I don’t think a man like that will be hard to find, but how do you propose we go about killing him? If you didn’t notice he had an absolutely insane command of magic,” Dave said.

“Okay, so let’s talk about that,” Race said. “I didn’t see him spending two weeks laying out diagrams and then sacrificing a goat before each spell. How was he able to do all that?”

“Honestly? I don’t fucking know. Maybe he had a lot of enchanted items on him or maybe he struck a pact with an Outsider, offering and service in exchange for power. Whatever he did, he has to have either sacrificed something major or made a lot of sacrifices to be able to do that.”

“Like a human sacrifice?” Spot asked.

“Yeah, but probably worse than that,” Dave said.

“What’s worse than that?” Jack asked.

“A sacrifice is more potent if it’s something of personal value, something you don’t want to lose, something you don’t want to do. Race didn’t just sacrifice a goat to make the mirror, he sacrificed the fact that he’d never killed anything before and didn’t want to kill anything. Pulitzer didn’t seem like the type who put much value in human life, but I bet he still values his family.”

“So you’re saying…” Jack trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Dave nodded. “That or a  _ lot  _ of people he didn’t care about.”

“What have you three gotten me into,” Spot said.

“Shut up Mr. I-knew-about-werewolves-but-still-didn’t-figure-out-why-the-guy-I-had-a-crush-on-dissappeared-every-full-moon,” Jack said.

Spot frowned to try and hide the blush that was trying to appear. In retrospect, he knew he should have figured out about Race on his own. Hotshot hadn’t been big on details, but the core details of turning into a wolf around the full moon and not liking silver should have been enough.

“How did you get that all out in one breath?” Dave asked.

“Ma gives singing lessons,” Jack said.

“So how do we fight him?” Race asked, his voice still determined. “Don’t pretend you haven’t already thought of something, Daves.”

“We need to find out what he did. If we find that out, then maybe we can find some way to counter it.”

“Okay, so then first we need to find him,” Race said.

Spot saw Dave and his brother exchange glances. Dave gave Jack a slight nod. Spot frowned but was glad Race seemed to have missed it.

“You guys remember Katherine?”

Spot blinked at the subject change, but he remembered her. “Fiery redhead, from a family that was way too rich for her to be attending a public school, and that always knew how to put you in your place?”

“Yeah, her. I think I know why she went to our school instead of a private one though.”

“Alright, why?” Race asked.

“Pulitzer is her father.”

“That’s not her last name though,” Spot said.

“She didn’t get along with her dad, and started using her mother’s maiden name after they divorced.”

“Well, I’d say ‘isn’t that convenient,’ if that didn’t seem to be the way our lives work now,” Race said.


	2. Missed Calls

Davey cleared his throat and they all looked at him. “We should consider including Mush in our planning.”

“Planning to kill him, you mean? Right?” Race said.

“When did you get so bloodthirsty?” Spot asked.

“About the same time I found out my parents was murdered.”

“We’re not murdering him,” Davey said, his voice firm and his eyes fixed on Race.

Jack squeezed his hand, offering him silent support.

“He knows more about the sea-devils than we do and he’s not going to let this go. He was sent here to find out what happened the same as I was, and I don’t want to imagine what’ll happen to him if he fails.” Davey’s hand was squeezing Jack’s now, his grip desperate for reassurance.

Jack released his boyfriend’s hand and threw his arm around Davey’s shoulders, pulling him close. He really didn’t like Davey’s parents. There were some choice words he’d like to have with them both but knew himself well enough to know that he’d be too intimidated to say them if he ever got the chance.

“Yeah, of course he knows a lot about them. He’s probably on their side. You read that passage my mom highlighted,” Race said.

“That was centuries ago, and it’s not like our ancestors are innocent.” Davey scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look even if the nagual were involved with this cult, which they aren’t, Mush would’ve been, what? Four, when this happened? We’re not murdering him. Hell, we aren’t murdering anyone.” Race started to protest but Davey silenced him by raising a hand.    
“I’m not saying Pulitzer gets to live, but if he dies, it will be carefully deliberated justice, not murder.”

Race turned to Spot for support, but Jack could tell that his brother agreed with them, as much as it looked like he wanted to be there for Race. Jack could tell when Race realized he wasn’t going to get any support there either.

“Fine,” Race said.

“Any of you idiots have his phone number then?”

Jack and Race shook their heads.

“Yeah, he gave it to me yesterday. Let’s see if my phone has enough charge yet.” Davey got up, leaving Jack’s side cold, and crossed to where his phone was plugged into Jack’s charger. He unplugged it and picked it up. He turned on the screen and paled. “Shit”

“Shit?” Jack asked.

“I’ve missed seven calls from my parents.”

“Shit,” Jack said.

Davey unlocked the phone and dialed, holding up his hand for the three of them to be quiet. Jack guessed it must have rung a few times before anyone picked up, either that or the worry on Davey’s face just made it seem to.

“Hi, Mo—”

Davey’s expression turned from worried to annoyed when he was cut off.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, my charger didn’t wo—”

Davey’s expression went from annoyed to frustrated.

“You called me seven times about Thanksgiving? Mom, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Jack smirked, glad it wasn’t about something serious and enjoying seeing the taller boy flustered.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it… Well, good for Sarah, but I don’t see what that has to do with me… Look, they’ve known each other for what? Three months? Not even three months? It’s a little early for her to be introducing her girlfriend to the family… I date!”

Davey looked outraged, his eyes drifting to Jack.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Davey’s eyes widened and he blushed a scarlet red that Jack had never seen him change before.

“Mom! I was not ignoring your calls to have sex with him.”

Race broke down and started cackling like a madman.

“That’s not him, that’s one of our other suitemates… I’m not dating Sean… Of course my boyfriend is listening to us too.”

Davey paused and looked at Jack. “My mom says, ‘Hi.’”

“Hello Mrs. Jacobs!” Jack shouted in the direction of Davey’s phone while trying not to laugh himself.

“Okay, fine… I just said yes… Fine, I’ll ask him, but he’s going to say no.”

Davey eyed his three roommates and made a face.

“I love you too… bye, Mom.”

Davey clicked off the phone and glared at all three, “Not one word.”

Spot held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Dave.”

“So, going home for Thanksgiving, I take it?” Jack asked.

Davey sighed then nodded. “Sarah got herself a girlfriend and is bringing her home, so I have to be there to meet her with the rest of the family.”

“And?” Jack asked with a raised eyebrow.

Davey gave him a glare that was half-hearted at best. “And they want me to invite you to come home with me.”

“And you don’t want me to go?” Jack asked.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” Davey said.

“Davey, you’ve met my nightmare of a family, it’s only fair I subject myself to yours.”

“Your family is great, Jack. Even Sean.”

“Yeah, well fuck you too, Jacobs,” Spot said, but his grin removed the bite from his words.”

“It’ll be the full moon, and there won’t be any hiding that you're an oboroten from them. There are going to be questions. A lot of questions.”

“Aren’t you already going to get a lot of questions? I mean, you’ve been here almost three months and haven’t told them anything yet, have you?” Jack asked.

“No, but I’ll tell them I was worried about phone lines and mail not being secure enough. They’ll be thrilled I’m taking security that seriously.”

“Okay, so what story are we going to give them?”

“You don’t have to come with me, Jack.”

“Do you not want me to come with you?”

Davey paused and pulled at his hair. “Of course I want you to come with me, but...” He pulled at his hair some more.

“But what?”

“But my dad is going to want to ‘put you through your paces.’” Davey must have seen the confused look on Jack’s face. “He’s going to want to see how good of a fighter you are.”

Jack’s eyes widened. Given what he knew about Davey’s upbringing, that sounded like it was going to hurt. He swallowed. “Them I’m coming.”

Davey started to say something else.

Jack held up his hand. “Ma will understand.”

“Hell, she’ll be thrilled not to have to feed you,” Spot said.

Jack flipped his brother off.

“Especially now that you’re a werewolf. You eat five times as much now. She’d have to cook a whole turkey just for you,” Spot continued.

Jack flipped his brother off with both hands.

Race started cackling again, and Davey looked torn between worrying about Jack meeting his parents and breaking down with laughter.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, I don’t see either of you eating less than I do.” Jack turned his attention back to Davey. “We need to get our story straight before Thanksgiving.”

“Nothing about this room is straight,” Race said and started laughing again.

Spot gave the blond a look of affectionate exasperation while Jack and Davey rolled their eyes.

Davey waited for Race’s giggles to slow before speaking. “Okay, so let’s start at the beginning then. We tell the truth about Race, but we say that he bit you when he first changed.”

“Wait, what?” Race asked.

“I know, Race, but pack law is pretty absolute on this. You let a human know about us for years.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I had any way of knowing about your bullshit pack laws.”

“I know, and if you didn’t notice I’m not doing a great job of following it myself.” Davey gestured in Spot’s direction.

Race started to say something but stopped himself. Instead, he crossed his arms and looked like he was sulking.

“So what next?” Jack asked.

“So we somehow wound up assigned to the same dorm, I figured out what you were, and after a misunderstanding, I started teaching you how to control it.”

“Misunderstanding?” Spot asked.

“Oh yeah, you shoulda seen Davey here when he got a smell of Race that first night. Forced his way in here and was threatening him and shit. Very manly,” Jack said.

Davey rolled his eyes.

Spot narrowed his eyes at Davey. “Is that so?”

“Relax. He was just a little tightly wound when he first got here,” Race said, then focused on Davey. “Which doesn’t mean I’m forgiving you for blaming me for something you did.”

“Blaming you?” Davey asked.

“Biting Jack.”

“That’s not something I’m blaming you for. That’s not something that anyone needs to be blamed for, Race.”

“It is a little bit,” Spot said.

Davey glared at Spot then turned his attention back to Race. “Jack getting bitten isn’t a bad thing. Especially from the packs’ perspective. It’s how they traditionally deal with a human finding out about us. Well, that or murder. I’m not blaming you, I’m protecting you.”

Race didn’t look convinced.

“You still see it as a bad thing, don’t you?” Jack asked.

Race’s position changed from crossed armed sulking to something that looked like he was hugging himself. Spot shifted closer to him and pulled him into a hug.

Jack gave Davey a helpless look but saw it reflected back to him by his boyfriend’s face. Jack laced their fingers together and the four of them sat in silence.

“So, should we tell Blink, or make Mush tell Blink?” Jack asked.

“You want to tell Blink?” Davey asked.

They were lying beside each other on Davey’s bed. Spot had taken Race out, whether to cheer him up or goad him into murdering Jack and Davey they weren’t sure.

“He’s pretty gone on Mush, it seems like something he should know sooner rather than later.”

“We can’t just tell everyone we date for a few months, Jack. Everyone in the world would know about us inside of a year.”

“But if they get serious Mush will tell him, right?”

“I actually don’t know. My parents were pretty insistent not to bring it up until the wedding night. Even then, I think they’d rather we bite them first and tell them after.”

“Yeah, cause that’s conducive to a healthy relationship.”

“Well, Sarah’s always planned to have the conversation as soon as she thinks a proposal is coming.”

“And what were you planning on?” Jack asked.

“On staying single forever.”

“Well, you’re failing pretty bad at that.”

“I suppose I am.”

“And now you’re taking me to meet your parents.”

“Under protest.”

Jack snorted.

“I have no idea how the nagual handle dating. Going off of Mush, I guess they approve of dating humans.”

“Either that or he’s as bad at being a nagual as you are at being an oborten,” Jack said.

Davey rolled onto his side and stuck his tongue out at Jack.

“Oh, very mature.”

Davey blew a raspberry at him and then rolled back onto his back.

“So how do we find out what his intentions toward Blink are?”

“Are you Louis’s ex or his father?”

“Well, he doesn’t have a dad to look out for him, and even if he did it’s not like he’d know his son is dating a werejaguar.”

Davey reached across Jack and grabbed his phone off the table by the side of the bed. He unlocked it and handed it to Jack. “So call Mush and ask him to come over. Then you can grill him to your heart’s content.”

Jack looked at the unlocked phone in his hand. No one had ever trusted him with their unlocked phone before. Race knew better. Katherine knew better. And Blink definitely knew better. He opened Davey’s contacts and scrolled down to M.

“Mush isn’t listed.”

“Look under N, for Nick.”

Jack smiled, of course Davey would list him by his actual name. He scrolled right past N to look at T, and sure enough, Race was listed as Tony. His smile widened and he scrolled up to find Nick.

“His last name is Meyers?”

“Yup,” Davey said.

“How the hell is his last name Meyers?”

“I’m not his genealogist, Jack, and that’s a pretty rude question.”

Jack knew Davey was right, but that still wasn’t the last name he was expecting for a nagual. He punched his contact and switched the phone to speaker when it started ringing.

Mush answered the phone in the middle of the fourth ring. “What do you want, dog-breath?”

“We just wanted to ask you to come by for dinner.”

“I’m flattered, but spoken for, and I’m not looking for a poly relationship with a pair of dogs either.”

“Oh haha, very funny. We have shit that needs talking about.”

There was a pause and then a long sigh. “Fine. You two are in Founders Hall, right? Thirteenth floor?”

Jack wasn’t sure how he felt about Mush already knowing that, but it was way too late now. “Yeah, room 1308.”

“Suite 1308,” Davey said.

“Same thing,” Jack said.

Davey smacked him in the chest.

“You two are sickening,” Mush said. “I’ll be by in a while, and I want a meat lover’s pizza to myself.”

Jack tried to think of a smart comeback, but Mush had already hung up.


	3. Kazoo-space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There's a panic attack described at the end of this chapter.

“Alright. So why do you hate yourself?” Spot asked.

“Pffft. Why would I hate myself? Have you seen me?” Race gestured at himself. “I am awesome.”

Spot took a sip from his drink while looking Race right in the eye. They were sitting in Jacobi’s. A half-eaten chicken caesar salad in front of Spot and the crumbs from two sandwiches on the plate in front of Race. Spot took another sip, still maintaining eye contact.

“I just want to be normal,” Race said.

Spot managed not to smirk, he knew Race wouldn’t be able to hold out long, but this wasn’t the time for gloating.

“Is that really too much to ask? I mean, I’m already a gay orphan, life hasn’t exactly done me any favors,” Race stopped and looked at Spot, “I mean, apart from you at least.”

“You’re a lot of things, Racer, but you ain’t never going to be normal.”

Race scoffed and kicked at Spot’s feet.

“Look, as a fellow gay orphan, I get it. Sure, life would be so much easier if we had parents. If we were straight and didn’t have to depend on the Supreme Court for basic rights. If there weren’t still countries where we’d be executed for kissing. And I’m sure it would be easier for you if you didn’t have to spend three nights a month shedding, but none of those are things we can change.”

“Look. I know all that. I fucking know. I know it here,” Race pointed at his head, “but I just don’t believe it here.” He pointed at his chest. “I don’t… I don’t know how to put it into words better than that. Like… if I was given the choice of being a,” he stopped and looked around at the nearby tables to make sure no one was listening, “werewolf, I wouldn’t choose it. I’ve spent the last four years hiding every month and waiting for the men in the black helicopters to come take me away and dissect me. Jack was the only one who knew, and that’s only because he was there the first time I changed. My dad doesn’t even know. The only reason I decided to major in biology was so that I could become a world-renowned geneticist and find a fucking cure.”

“And here I thought it was so that you can see me in class.”

“That’s a nice perk, but no. I mean, I thought about aerospace engineering so I could move to Mars, because it doesn’t really have a moon, but with my luck, those two tiny asteroids would count, and they orbit around it so fast I’d never not be a wolf.”

Spot had no idea what Race was talking about, astronomy wasn’t something that had ever interested him, but he assumed Race knew what he was walking about. Race was an idiot, but he was also a genius at anything math or science related. He learned more studying with Race than he did from any of the professors.

“Well, I don’t think biology is going to help you with something magical,” Spot said.

“I don’t know. Maybe it won’t, but making that mirror involved a lot of math. Applied math. I’m pretty sure magic is just accessing higher dimensions and folding matter and energy through them.” Race paused to take a sip of his drink, his brows wrinkled in thought. “Which would explain where the extra mass goes when we shift, and where the extra mass to regrow an arm comes from, and where all the extra food we eat goes. That would at least allow thermodynamics to keep working if you take the extra-dimensional bits into account.”

Spot blinked, he’d passed physics in high school, but only with a B-. “So, like quantum stuff?”

“No, quantum is dealing with how weird really really small things are. Well, that and maybe alternate dimensions. I’m talking about higher dimensions, though. Like, we have three, or four if you count time. Length, width, and depth, right?”

Spot nodded.

“So like, the mirror used time too, obviously, but the diagrams described the equations of a five-dimensional space. Something with length, width, depth, and two others. Call them like… cigar and kazoo.”

Spot stifled the laugh that wanted to escape him. This conversation had veered from trying to help Race into the strange without him even realizing it.

“So, I have length, depth, and width, but the rest of my mass has length, width, and kazoo instead. Or maybe depth, kazoo, and cigar.” Race pulled out his phone and started typing into it. “If I could just figure out which, then maybe I could come up with a ritual to cut the link between myself and kazoo-space. No more extradimensional link and boom,” Race slapped the table with his hand attracting the attention of all the tables in the restaurant.

Spot buried his face in his palm.

“Uh… sorry about that?” Race said to the silent room, but it came out more like a question. Conversation resumed at the other tables before Race leaned across the table to whisper to Spot, “Boom, no more Mr. Werewolf.”

“That’s your solution? To literally chop yourself in half? Assuming anything you said is right and not just technobabble.”

“It could be a cure.”

“Or it could lead to you bleeding out into kazoo-space. And I cannot believe that sentence just came out of my mouth.” Spot took a deep breath. “Chopping yourself in half is not a solution.”

“It could be a cure,” Race repeated.

“You don’t need a fucking cure, Tony.” Spot reached across the table, took Race’s phone out of his hands, and set it aside. Then he grabbed both of Race’s hands with his own. “You. Do. Not. Need. A. Cure. There is nothing wrong with you, apart from being an absolute idiot I mean. But you’re my idiot and I’m not going to let you chop yourself in half.”

The elevator doors opened and Race and Spot exited onto their floor. Race was carrying a stack of five large pizzas Dave had texted and asked them to pick up on their way back. Spot caught sight of Mush waiting outside their door and frowned at the Latino boy. At least the number of pizzas made sense now.

Spot didn’t bother to hide his frown as he walked past Mush and unlocked the door, but he held it open to let Mush go into the room after Race. He followed them and closed the door.

“We found your stray cat,” Spot called toward Race and Jack’s room while he went to unlock the door to his and Dave’s. The door was already unlocked though, and he opened it to find Dave and his brother lying together on Dave’s bed. At least they were still wearing clothes for once, he’d been starting to feel like he was living in a nudist colony.

Race dropped the stack of pizzas on Spot’s desk, then took the top one and sat down on Spot’s bed. He opened the box, pulled out a slice, and shoved it in his mouth. Spot wasn’t sure he was even bothering to chew before swallowing. He’d had two large sandwiches less than an hour before, Spot was still amazed by how much he could eat.

“So why am I here?” Mush asked, moving to the stack of food and opening the top box. He moved that box to the side and checked the next one and then the next before claiming the third one for himself and sitting in Spot’s desk chair.

Dave rolled off his bed and selected two of the pizzas, handing one to Jack when he went back to sit on his bed.

Spot ignored the final pizza. Unlike the rest of the room, he didn’t have an abnormal appetite and was still plenty full from what he had at the deli.

“You’re here because, unless you’re planning on moving back to San Diego, you’re involved with all this now.”

Mush didn’t respond right away, instead, he pulled a slice of pizza covered in meat out of his box and took a big bite. While he chewed he swiveled around in the chair, looking each of the four in the eye. He stared at Dave the longest. “Fuck.”

Dave raised a slice of pizza to Mush in a mock toast then took a bite.

“So, Dave says you know a lot about the fish people?”

“The Chyrlid Ajha. I don’t know that I’d say I know a lot. I met one, once. From what I know we’ve always had peaceful relations with them. They mostly stick to the Atlantic and the Gulf.”

“Those fuckers didn’t seem very peaceful to me,” Race said through half-chewed pizza.

“Look at it from their perspective. They showed up right in the middle of a fight between your parents and their kids.”

“What?”

“Their what?”

“Kids?”

Mush blinked at them and shook his head. “Right, you don’t know. They’re born human. Mostly at least. They kind of work like frogs, but in reverse. Only the ones that still look human can have kids, and when they get older they become aquatic. It’s why some of the cultists looked the way they did, they were starting to change.”

“The eyes you mean?” Jack asked.

Mush nodded. “It can take years though.”

Spot swallowed, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Mush had to be wrong. His mom had been one of the ones with large eyes, the wide mouth. He closed his eyes. Images of his mom’s face and the face of the scarlet-scaled fish person from the mirror flashed through his mind. His blood was pounding in his ears, he couldn’t hear anything else. It sounded like a raging river or a storm-tossed sea crashing against the beach. Spot couldn’t breathe. He thought he might have heard someone shout his name, but he couldn’t be sure over the thundering sound of his own blood, his own ragged breaths. His mouth felt dry as the desert but his face was wet. Spot felt like he was drowning.

Something touched him. His mind showed him red scales and clawed hands trying to drag him into the depths of the sea. He twisted away and lashed out. His fist connected with something, he felt something break but his eyes were still screwed shut. Something grabbed his wrists, pulling his arms back. He kicked out, connecting with something, but then his legs were grabbed too. He thought he screamed as he was dragged into the darkness of the depths.


	4. Flipped Off

“Are you sure it’s straight?” Jack asked.

“Nothing about you is straight,” Mush said.

Davey sighed and ignored Mush then pulled Jack’s hands away from his face so he could get a look at it. “It’s fine, Jack.”

Jack reached up and touched his nose again, wiggling the tip from side to side. “I can’t believe he broke my fucking nose.”

“I thought it was a good look on you,” Mush said.

Jack flipped him the bird.

“It’s not like it isn’t already healed you big baby.”

“Why’d he freak out like that?” Race asked. He was sitting beside Spot’s unconscious form on his bed, holding a wet washcloth to his forehead.

“Probably because somebody just told him he’s going to turn into a fish,” Jack said, his eyes moving from Spot and Race to glare at the nagual.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not a situation I ever thought I’d find myself in. I’ll practice better for the next time.”

“You’d better, you’re going to get the chance.” Jack had no idea how to break that type of news to Katherine, who he was certain didn’t already know. Did the Delancey brothers already know? He assumed they probably did and wasn’t feeling charitable enough to tell them if they didn’t.

“Has he ever had a panic attack before?” Davey asked.

Race shook his head.

“I mean, it’s been a long forty-eight hours. I think he’s entitled after finding out about all of this,” Jack said.

“So, he’s definitely one of those fish people?” Race asked.

“The Chyrlid,” Mush said.

“Whatever, answer the question.”

Mush shrugged. “His mom had the look. He might only be half though, any of you know anything about his dad?”

Race and Davey shook their heads, then looked at Jack when they noticed he was frowning.

“Jack?” Davey asked.

“He came looking for him once, a few years ago. Things didn’t go well between them. Spot ran off for a week after, and Ma had to take out a restraining order to keep his dad from coming back around.”

“Well, what did he look like?” Race asked.

“Normal, no weird eyes. Normal-sized mouth,” Jack said.

“So they can reproduce with humans?” Davey asked.

Mush nodded. “They don’t generally, apparently the kids usually change, but not always, and no one really wants to outlive their kids by a few thousand years.”

“Wait, how long do they live?” Race asked.

“Until they’re killed. They grow throughout their lives too, the oldest are supposed to be so big they can’t even leave the water without collapsing under their own weight.”

“As disturbing as that is, you’re saying since he’s only half, Spot may not change?” Jack asked.

Mush shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Okay, well… what if Race bites him? You said they don’t change until their forties or something, right?” Jack turned to look at Davey, “And you said we don’t age past thirty. So Race bites him, he never turns into a fish. Problem solved, right?”

Davey and Mush looked at each other, their faces going through a number of expressions. Jack was a little offended that Mush was able to communicate with  _ his  _ boyfriend so easily.

Davey turned back to look at Jack. “Maybe?”

Mush shrugged again. “I’ve never heard of one of us biting one of them.”

“It might work like you said,” Davey said, “or maybe he’d just end up a fish-man werewolf.”

“Or they might interfere with each other and kill him,” Mush said.

Davey paled. “Or worse.”

“What could be w—”

“Do not answer that question. I do not want to know.” Race interrupted Jack’s question then turned to look at Davey. “So how do we find out if he’s going to change? There must be a spell or something?”

Davey turned to look at Mush.

Jack and Race also turned to look at Mush.

“We’d probably have to ask the Chyrlid. I know the sign to call them, you saw that Delancey guy do it in the mirror, but any of them within a hundred miles would hear it if I tried it, and I assume we don’t want them knowing about us?”

The three werewolves all nodded.

“The only other place we could find it would be in some of their own grimoires. There used to be a community of them in Massachusetts, it was raided by the federal government in the twenties or something. If we could track down what happened to their libraries we might find something.”

“They were taken to a university that burned down in the sixties,” Davey said.

“Wait, you mean the Miskatonic Collection where I found the  _ Revelations _ ?” Race asked.

Mush sat bolt upright. “The  _ Revelations of Glaaki _ ?”

“Don’t worry, they only have the first nine volumes,” Davey said. “I had the same reaction.”

Mush let out a long slow breath. “Fuck, do not scare me like that.”

Race looked like he wanted to laugh and Jack wondered what he was missing.

“So the collection is here then?”

“Parts of it. A lot was lost when the university burned down. What was left was divided up between a few universities. They’se super hard to get access to too,” Race said. “Took me months to get in.”

“And you still need to get me in to take a look at what they have,” Davey said.

Race waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Under duress.”

“Get me in too. If you think I’m trusting two dogs to access any part of that collection without adult supervision,” Mush said.

“You’re the same age as us,” Race said. “Well, as Davey at least.”

“Oh, well then let me just trust the canine colonizer with books that might be as dangerous as a nuclear bomb.”

“Please, we made the mirror. We managed to literally bend the fabric of time and space just fine without a bougie cat getting in the way.”

“Oh, is that right?” Mush took a step toward the bed where Race was sitting.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Race looked like he wanted to get up, but he was cradling Spot’s head in his lap and didn’t want to disturb him, even though Jack was pretty sure his brother was going to be out for a while.

“The mirror that cracked because you attuned it to the wrong thing?”

“Oh, fuck you very much.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Davey stepped between the two of them, he turned to look at Mush. “We’re not out to get you. I know what our ancestors did to yours. I know, okay? But Race and I are not them. And you,” he turned to face Race, “this is his land, and he knows more about this than we do. His opinion on the books in the library could be useful. I know you’re angry. I know you’re worried about Spot, but this isn’t doing anyone any good.”

Race started to say something, but a look from Davey kept him quiet. He looked back down at Spot and flipped the washcloth on his forehead over.

Mush walked back to Spot’s desk and sat down in the chair. Spinning around in it once before facing Davey and Jack again. He stared Davey down for a few seconds before looking down at his hands.

“This… I... “ Mush sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hands, light glinting off his array of silver rings.

Jack rubbed the band of the gold-plated ring on his right ring finger with his thumb.

Davey grabbed Jack’s hand and guided him over to his bed, lacing their fingers together as he sat down and pulled Jack down beside him.

“What have you told the people who sent you here?” Davey asked.

“What have you told the people who sent you here?” Mush countered.

“Nothing,” Davey said, “but I’ll have to tell them something when I go back for Thanksgiving.”

Mush snorted. “Of course werewolves would celebrate that.” He sighed and scrubbed at his face again. “I haven’t told them anything either. I’ll be expected home over Christmas break though.”

“Don’t suppose you’re any better at lying than we are?” Race asked, stroking his fingers through Spot’s hair.

“Blink doesn’t seem to know, which means he’s much better than any of us,” Davey said.

“Speaking of Blink, what exactly is your guys… uh… protocol on that?” Jack asked.

“Our protocol?”

“Jack wants to know if you’re planning on telling him you’re a werecat,” Race said.

Mush looked down and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I mean… don’t you think it’s a little early for that? Traditionally that’s an after-marriage discussion if it comes up at all,” He looked up at Davey. “You can’t expect me to believe you wouldn’t do the same.”

Davey glanced at Jack and then down at their joined hands. “I don’t know. It seems like something that should probably come up sooner, at least before anyone makes a proposal.”

“So you don’t even always tell your partners?” Jack asked.

“We’re not like you. We don’t mate for life. If we date a human, we can’t stay with them forever. Ten years, maybe twenty max, doesn’t seem worth it to tell them for such a short time.”

“Twenty years is a short time? Ain’t none of us even been alive that long and you’re calling it a short time?”

“I mean…” Mush shrugged, and Jack could tell he was just parroting back what he’d been told.

“Okay, so... fascinating as all this is, and I do think you should tell Blink if you’re serious about him, can we get back to talking about helping Spot?” Race said.

“Well, first you need to go through that collection and see if you can find any mentions of the Chyrlid,” Davey said.

“And if I can’t?”

“Then we let Spot put his larcenous skills to the test on Weasel’s house and see if he finds anything there,” Jack said.

“And if that fails, we take a road trip to Massachusetts and try calling the Chyrlid and asking,” Mush said.

All three looked at him, that still sounded like a bad idea to Jack, but after locking eyes with Mush for a second, Davey nodded.

Race’s shoulders relaxed, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. “Okay, so we’ve got a plan for that. Now, what are we going to do about Daves here agreeing to take his werewolf boyfriend home to meet his terrifying family? His still-has-the-new-werewolf-smell werewolf boyfriend.”

“You’re taking him home to meet your parents?” Mush asked.

Davey’s face fell. “It wasn’t my idea. My sister met some new girl in Arizona and is bringing her home, so I mentioned that I had a boyfriend, so he got invited over and was too dumb to say no.”

“Hey! I resemble that remark,” Jack said and gave Davey’s hand a squeeze and looked him in the eye. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I’m not afraid. Your family sounds a lot more… intense than mine.” He wanted to say ‘abusive’ but was trying to be tactful in front of Race and Mush. “But, you met my family, so it’s only fair I get to meet yours.”

“The problem is we’re not exactly good at keeping secrets.” Race gestured at Spot, still unconscious with his head in Race’s lap, and then at Mush.

“I am just not that good at lying,” Davey said.

“Don't lie. Tell fragments of the truth. It’s still dishonest, but it should be easier, and I would really appreciate not having every oborotni in the Northeast competing to hunt me down,” Mush said.

Davey looked from Mush to Jack and then back. “That might work. Okay. So. Race and Jack are oborotni. Race is natural and Jack is bitten. We found Race’s mother’s journal about what happened here,” he looked at Race, “I should photocopy the last few pages to bring them, and the passage from that one book she highlighted.”

Race nodded.

“Race found the building where it happened. There was an old spell trap there, but the building hasn’t been used in a long time, and we have no idea what to do next?” Davey looked at Jack.

Jack nodded, it sounded good and since it was all parts of the truth it would be easy to keep straight.

“See, nothing a little editing of the truth can’t resolve,” Mush said. “Now what about investigating the housing office?

“What?” Race stopped stroking Spot’s hair.

“You’re good at math, what are the odds of the only two werewolves in the school being randomly put in the same dorm room?”

Race frowned, it looked like he was trying to do the math in his head.

“Then add in the odds of the only werejaguar in the school being assigned to the ex of someone else in that room,” Mush said.

Race’s frown deepened before he answered. “Yeah, okay. Those odds aren’t great.”

“So we need to see if we can find out who arranged it. Someone is leading us by the nose, and I don’t like it,” Davey said.

Mush nodded in agreement.

“So how do we figure out who did it?” Jack asked.

Davey looked at Race. “Sean blamed Jack for getting assigned to the same room, why?”

“Jack was always pulling shit in high school. He once switched the sound of the bells that rang between classes with Baby Shark.”

Davey looked at Jack and then back at Race. “He can barely turn on his computer.”

Race shrugged.

Jack coughed. “I’m not  _ that  _ bad.”

Race and Davey both looked at him.

“I’m not!” Jack insisted.

“So who did you get to do it for you?” Davey asked.

“Crutchie.”

“Wait, Crutchie?” Race looked shocked.

“Okay, so if he’s good with computers, ask him if he can hack into the housing office and look at our files.” Davey at least seemed to believe him.

“Crutchie. Sweet little Crutchie?” Race asked.

Jack ignored Race and nodded at Davey.

“Crutchie?” Race asked again.

“I think you broke him,” Mush said, “How many fingers am I holding up?” He flipped Race off.

“This many, asshole.” Race flipped Mush off and then shook his head, probably trying to clear it. “So, I guess that’s everything planned. For now. Since you all seem to be against me murdering Weasel.” Race looked up, probably hoping they’d changed their minds.

Even Mush, who hadn’t been there for the previous argument, nodded.

Race made a face but didn’t argue. He ran his fingers through Spot’s hair and looked down at him. “Now we just need to figure out how to keep this idiot calm when he wakes up.”

They all turned to look at Davey.

“What, why are you all looking at me?”

“Well, you just seem the nervous type is all,” Race said.

Davey flipped him off with his free hand.


	5. Glow Sticks

Spot sat up.

The room was dark. He fumbled for his phone to check the time. It was 4 a.m. His chest was cold. He looked down and discovered he was only wearing sweatpants. He didn’t remember changing or going to bed. The bed moved and he jumped out of it, his heart racing. Spot swung his phone around, using the screen to illuminate whatever was in his bed.

Race blinked at him in the light.

Spot let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Racer?”

Race sat up and looked at him. “Spotty? How’re you feeling?”

“I… what?” Spot sat down on the bed next to Race, who was giving him the strangest look. Why was Race looking at him like that? What had happened before they went to bed? It all came rushing back like a freight train. “Oh.”

Race sat up and tried to pull Spot into a hug, but he flinched away from it. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh-kay… did I do something?”

“What? No. It’s just… I’m not even human. You shouldn’t be touching me.”

Race snorted. “Oh my god. Is that what I sounded like all these years?” He grabbed Spot’s shoulder and pulled him around until they were facing each other. He leaned in and made a show of examining Spot all over. “You look plenty human to me.”

“I’m a goddamn fish, Racer.”

“And I’m a dog.” He put his other hand on Spot’s other shoulder and looked him in the eye. “I love you, Sean. And I’ll still love you if you start growing scales. Which we don’t even know if you’re going to do.”

“You saw my mom.”

“Yeah, but Jack says your dad is human. So at most you’re half-fish, and Mush says the half-fish don’t always change.”

“So what, we’re just going to wait to see if my eyes get all fishy?”

“No. Apparently the collection I found the spell for the mirror in might have some books that’ll let us find out. You were out for a while after you hyperventilated, but you’d be proud of us. We even have two backup plans in case I can’t find anything there, and one of them will let you break into someone’s house.”

Spot chuckled, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Okay. I can tell I’m not going to convince you, but I’m not going anywhere, so why don’t you lie back down. Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I won’t.”

“Well, I’ll feel better after a full night’s sleep, so lie your ass back down.” Race pushed Spot down by his shoulders and then cuddled next to him. “We’ll find something. You’re not going to turn into a fish unless you want to turn into a fish, and then I’ll get you a big aquarium.”

Spot spent the next day and the rest of the week walking around in a daze. He went to class, studied with Race, walked in on Jack and Dave, twice, but he couldn’t focus on any of it. He stood in front of the mirror for what felt like hours and may have been. Were his eyes bigger today than they were yesterday? Was that itchy spot on his back just dry skin or was he starting to grow scales? Would turning into one of those monsters hurt?

His birthday came and went, but even that couldn’t snap him out of it. Nineteen wasn’t that important of a birthday anyhow, and now it might mean he was one year closer to turning into a fish. Race gave him a beanie and spent the night with him. Dave gave him a new wallet and a night alone with Race. Jack gave him a sketch of his mother and a cupcake from Jacobi’s. They were both good, of course the cupcake was good, even if it did taste a bit like ash, and Jack was more talented than Spot gave him credit for most of the time, but the picture brought up a lot of feelings he wasn’t ready to deal with.

The key hung heavy around his neck. Was it real gold? He’d used a scale in the bio lab to weigh it and then done some math. It was as dense as real gold. It looked like real gold. When he was younger he’d stare at it for hours, imagining what it unlocked. A pirate treasure chest, a secret compartment where he’d find a birth certificate saying he was part of some obscure royal family, or a magic wardrobe that opened a portal to another world. He’d never told anyone about any of that, Spot Conlon didn’t get to have flights of fancy. After Medda had adopted him he stopped wondering about it. He wore the key but almost never thought about it anymore, and if he did it was just as a keepsake of someone who’d left a long time ago. Now he was wondering what it went to again. In the temple they’d seen the first night in the mirror there’d been a small gold chest between the statue’s feet. Did it go to that? Was the chest still there? It couldn’t be.

Spot pulled his new beanie down. It was the day before Thanksgiving, the day after his birthday, and his math teacher had sent out an email canceling class for the week, so after his 9 a.m. English class he’d headed to the subway. It was colder near the waterfront.

He looked down at his cast and then up at the empty building in front of him, the reason why he had the cast in the first place. This was dumb and dangerous. There was no way the chest was still down there. What if there were more traps? He should have told someone where he was going, not Race, but Dave would’ve been useful. Except that Dave and Jack were already on their way to Buffalo, and even if they weren’t Dave would’ve been too busy worrying about Jack facing his parents to help.

Spot straightened his shoulders and walked into the building.

There was different trash strewn everywhere than on his first trip, and there was a charred patch of concrete near the pillar with the secret door that he was sure wasn’t there the first time, but otherwise the building seemed unchanged. Spot wandered around for a few minutes before approaching the pillar, making sure no urban explorers were checking the place out.

Spot examined the pillar. He knew it concealed a hatch, but even knowing where it was he couldn’t find a seam. He touched the graffiti-covered sigil but nothing happened. Sighing, he pulled his glove off and touched it again. There was a click and the hidden door swung open revealing the ladder down into darkness. He stuck his head in and looked down, but couldn't see anything.

If he’d stopped to plan this before leaving campus, he would’ve brought a flashlight and his cast cover. Since he hadn’t planned on coming here until he was already on the subway, he’d have to make do with some party glow sticks, duct tape, and the plastic bag they’d come in. He cracked a glow stick, shook it, and dropped it. The pink glow fell about thirty feet before splashing into murky-looking seawater and sinking until the glow was all but gone.

This was a stupid idea. What was he even thinking coming down here alone? That water was going to be freezing.

Spot sat down on the floor and pulled his shoes and socks off. He put them against the side of the pillar and threw some trash over them in case anyone came around while he was down there. He pulled the rest of the glowsticks out of the bag and shoved them in his coat pocket. He pulled the duct tape out next and used it, along with the plastic shopping bag it had all come in to create a makeshift cast-cover.

He snapped and shook another glow stick, this one was blue, and put it between his teeth. He grabbed onto the ladder with his good hand and pulled the hatch most of the way shut behind him. There was bound to be some way to open it from the inside, but he’d rather not have to worry about it. If his luck held he’d be bleeding from a shark bite when he was climbing back up, so it was best to minimize any obstacles.

Spot adjusted the blue glow stick in his mouth and started down the ladder. It was tricky going, between the cast, his weakened fingers, and the plastic bag his right hand was not up to climbing a ladder, but he wasn’t going to give up now. He snaked the injured arm behind each rung, using his elbow to hang on as he climbed down. This was such a bad idea, Race’s idiocy was rubbing off on him.

When his barefoot brushed the water, it was just as cold as he’d expected. He stopped, pulled his cellphone from his pants pocket and put it in the coat pocket with his two remaining glow sticks. He climbed the rest of the way down. The water was just above his waist, lower than it had been last time. The tide must have been out.

Spot moved the glow stick from his mouth to his bagged hand and headed out of the ladder’s shaft into the hallway where they’d triggered the trap. Nothing attacked him, which was good. The water was so dirty he couldn’t see anything below the surface. He forced his way forward through the cold water and down the short hallway. He ran the fingers of his good hand along the wall. It felt and looked like ordinary concrete, not the strange stone they’d seen under the house in Staten Island.

The entrance to the temple, or shrine, or whatever, yawned before him, dark and silent. The pale light of the glow stick didn’t go far and with the hatch closed no light came from the shaft he’d climbed down. Spot moved around the edges of the room. It hadn’t seemed this large in the mirror, and maybe it wasn’t, but forcing his way through the dark waters in his tiny bubble of colored light, it felt like a cathedral.

Spot’s foot bumped against something. Whatever it was twitched. He froze, but after waiting a minute to see if it attacked him he balanced on one foot and probed around it with his toes. It had sharp bits, and was moving a little, but didn’t react to him. Spot sighed and moved his phone and the glow stick to his bad hand. He raised the cast over his head, took a deep breath, and bent down into the water. He tried to clear his mind and focus on finding whatever it was as the water closed over his head. Was this his future? Was he going to spend centuries swallowed beneath the waves, while Racer was stuck on land, both immortal but forever apart? He forced himself to focus on what he was doing and felt his hand close around whatever it was.

He stood back up, pulling the thing with him and out of the water so he could get a look at it. It was another rune-carved shark jaw, smaller than the one that had put him in the cast. It opened and closed in his hand, but made no move to bite him. He dropped it and watched it sink back below the water. There were more traps left here, but they weren’t targeting him. They recognized him or at least recognized what he was.

After slogging around the edges of the room he started crossing it. He activated and broke open the third of his glowsticks and used his finger to mark the walls with the glowing goop so he could mark his progress and make sure to search the whole room. It was slow going. He could only search by touch, and only with his toes. He was drenched in the briny water, and in whatever was making it so murky. He moved that thought to the back of his mind with all the others he was trying not to think about.

He found three more shark jaws and a bunch of fishbones.

Spot turned in the direction of the statue. He’d avoided it as long as he could. He’d seen it as he searched, but had been unwilling to look at it. Between its height and the pedestal it was stationed on, the water only came up to mid-calf on it. It was a rough depiction of one of the fish-monsters carved from speckled gray stone that almost looked the same as the concrete walls and ceiling. He brushed his fingers against some damaged parts on it. Bullet damage. He didn’t remember any of the werewolves in the mirror shooting at it, although with how focused he’d been on his mother he could have missed it, and they hadn’t recorded the first night so there was no way to check.

He bent and felt around between the statue’s feet, able to use his hand to search the pedestal. There was no sign of the golden box, not that he’d expected something that looked that valuable to still be here. He felt around the rest of the base, probing what he could with his fingers and the rest with his toes. Finding nothing down there, he ran his fingers over the statue, hoping his touch might open some hidden compartment, but nothing reacted.

Spot sighed. He’d learned that the cult’s traps didn’t react to him and that whatever was in his blood allowed him to open the door to this place, but it otherwise looked like it had been a wasted trip. He looked down at himself and frowned, he’d ruined his clothes as there was no way he was going to be able to hide this when he got back to the dorm. Jack was never going to let him live this down.

He turned toward the hallway and stopped. The fish-monsters had come out of a hole in the floor behind the statue, but he’d paced that area and hadn’t found anything. He turned back around and circled behind the statue to where he thought the hole had been. Now that he was looking for it, there was a spot there where the floor felt different. He tried to jump up and down on it, but that felt more like bobbing up and down in the water and didn’t give him any new information. It felt like it might be metal, about the size of a manhole cover. Between the water blocking his view and his bum arm, there was no way he was going to be able to unseal it. Not that it would get him anything if he did. He wasn’t in any way prepared to go diving down mysterious passages.

He went back to the statue and took a last look at it in the blue light of the glowstick. Is this what he was going to look like? Well, probably not as tall, although Mush had said they kept growing throughout their life. Spot snorted, maybe he’d get to five-six after all.

His mother had stood in this room, when it was a lot less flooded, but still. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been somewhere she had. He looked at the statue again, wondering now how much it resembled what his mother would have become.

“I used to miss you so much, Momma.” Spot fingered the key under his soaking wet shirt. “Were you starting to change? Is that why you left me? Or could you just not deal with him anymore?”

“I have a boyfriend, you know? I don’t know what fish-monster views on homosexuality are, but I think you’d like him. Well, except he’s a werewolf. The son of the ones that killed Delancey. Of course, if he was anything like his sons… well I’m not sure it was a great loss to the world. Are we related to them?”

The statue didn’t answer.

Spot held up his wet hand and looked at it. He’d been in the cold water for a long time now. He should have been feeling the effects of hypothermia, but at this point, the water just felt cool to him. It was like adjusting to the water in a pool that was just a little too cold.


	6. Pink Suitcase

The drive to Buffalo took a lot longer than Jack had expected. Davey’s father had offered to come and pick them up from the dorm, but Jack didn’t think being stuck in a car with his boyfriend’s possibly murderous father was a good idea. Depending on that father for a ride back to the dorm after Thanksgiving seemed like an even worse idea. So, instead, he’d convinced his Ma to loan him her minivan for the trip after helping her buy everything she’d need to cook Thanksgiving dinner for his three siblings, Denton, Race, and Albert — he was surprised Crutchie and Albert were still together after a month and wasn’t sure how to feel about it — and by promising that he’d be home for Christmas.

For the first three hours of the drive, they listened to Jack’s playlist of Broadway hits, then he’d let Davey connect his phone to the stereo and it had been nothing but Panic! At The Disco ever since. Jack wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting Davey’s music taste to be, but he’d thought there’d be more variety at least. About an hour out Davey had disconnected his phone and started searching the radio, but they were still too far away for whatever station he was looking for and he kept tuning through static.

“What’re you even looking for?” Jack asked.

“Something different, I don’t know.” Davey turned the dial again, still more static. He made a face and turned it again, landing halfway on a country station.

Jack lunged over and pressed the power button. Silence fell over the minivan.

“What’s this really about?”

Davey’s leg was bouncing so much Jack thought he might put a hole through the floor. Considering that it would be the first night of the full moon that day, it became a real possibility. Jack took one hand off the wheel and reached over to grab Davey’s. He gave it a firm squeeze.

“Look. I’m nervous about meeting your parents too. Really nervous. But we’ve got the story worked out, and none of it is a lie.”

“It still feels like one.”

Jack squeezed Davey’s hand again. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“But what if it isn’t?”

“Then we run to San Diego and try our luck hiding with the nagual.”

Davey snorted, which Jack counted as a success.

It was just after 9 a.m. when they left the dorms, and it was almost 4 p.m. when they reached Davey’s house in a quaint little hamlet just outside of Buffalo proper. The house wasn’t as big as his Ma’s but was plenty big enough for a family with three kids, and was on a much larger lot. There was a blue hybrid sedan parked in the driveway.

Jack parked on the street in front of the house. They took a long look at it before he killed the engine. He reached over and gave Davey’s hand a squeeze before he grabbed his bag from the backseat and got out of the car. He threw the bag over his shoulder.

Davey didn’t move.

Jack circled around the car and opened the passenger door. He offered his hand to Davey. Davey sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. He let Jack help him out of the car and then turned to grab the bag Race had lent him for the trip. Davey’s own suitcase was a huge old clunky thing, too large for moving into the dorm let alone a weekend trip. Jack took the bag from Davey, shut the car door, and double-pressed the lock button on the remote. When the horn beeped, he turned and looked up at the house. He took a deep breath and started toward the front door. Davey followed behind him.

When they reached the door Jack moved to knock, but Davey stopped him and pulled keys out of his pocket. Davey unlocked the door and stepped in. Jack followed him, swinging the door shut behind them.

“We’re here!” David called into the house.

The sound of water running in another room stopped. A woman bustled into the room who would look far too young to have an eighteen-year-old son if it wasn’t for a few streaks of silver in her hair. It wasn’t quite the gray of age though, it was just a bit too blue to be natural. Jack didn’t think most people would notice though.

“David!” She threw a dish towel that had been in her hand over her shoulder and crossed the room to fold him in a light hug.

David returned the hug. “Hi, Mom.”

She pulled back and looked David over, analyzing his clothes and looking at his hair. Then she turned her attention on Jack. “And you must be Jack. Put those bags down and let me get a look at you.

Jack set the bags on the floor in the entryway and took a step toward her.

She looked him over, and he tried not to feel like a bacteria on a scientist’s slide. He saw her breath in through her nose, like he’d seen Davey do plenty of times now, and watched her eyes widen as she got the smell of him. She grabbed Jack by the shoulders and turned him toward the light to get a better look at him.

“You’re definitely not from any of the New York packs. Where are you from Jack?”

“Mom!” David turned to look around the room like he was afraid someone would hear them.

“Sarah isn’t home yet, so you don’t need to worry about her girlfriend overhearing anything.” She returned her attention to Jack. “Now where are you from, dear?”

Jack started to answer but Davey beat him to the punch.

“He’s from New York City.”

She looked at Davey and raised an eyebrow.

“Look, we can explain later. It’s a long story and I don’t want to tell it more than once. He didn’t know anything before we met, so he’s probably still going to change in,” Davey pulled out his phone and checked the time, “thirty-seven minutes. So how about we grab a snack in the kitchen and go to my room, and I’ll explain everything after dinner?”

Jack blinked and looked at Davey’s phone. He was right — of course Davey was right — but Jack still wasn’t used to how early it got dark this time of year. It felt like it had just been summer.

She gave Davey a look, that had him squirming inside of a few seconds. Davey looked down, but reached out and took Jack’s hand. Jack squeezed it. Davey’s mom looked at their joined hands and then back up at them. She shook her head, but Jack thought there might be just a hint of a smile on her face.

“Fine, but we’ll be discussing your communication skills later, and take your bags to your room first,” She said.

Davey pulled Jack over toward their bags and went to pick one up, but Jack beat him and picked up both of them. He motioned with one for Davey to lead the way.

“I am capable of carrying a bag, you know,” Davey said, but was smiling while he said it.

“Oh, am I allowed to talk now?” Jack stuck his tongue out at Davey, then turned towards his mother. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jacobs.”

Davey led him down the hall to the second door on the left and into what could only be Davey’s room. The furniture was all crafted from dark brown wood and almost all matched, except for one of the two tall bookshelves against one wall. The full-sized bed under the window, sporting a bright blue bedspread, was neatly made, of course.

Jack followed Davey in. He set his bag down next to Davey’s bed, and put Davey’s bag down on the bed. He turned around, taking the room in.

“Come on, let’s get some sandwiches or something. You can snoop around while you’re on all fours.”

Jack was sitting naked in the middle of the floor of Davey’s room with his eyes closed. He’d scarfed down three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the kitchen. Davey had eaten two there and was eating a third while he sat on his bed and watched Jack.

“I can feel you checking me out,” Jack said.

“I am not!”

“Yeah, you are. Not that I can blame you. I am a fine specimen of oborotni-hood.”

Davey laughed. “You might be the first person to ever use that word. You’re definitely something.”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t love it.”

“Just shut up and focus on your breathing.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know what to do. I’m not Race.”

“Race knows what to do. He’s just bad at it.”

Jack snorted. He started to say something else, but he felt the sunset. Felt the full moon. He took a breath in through his mouth and exhaled through his nose. Nice and slow, just like Davey had taught them. It was relaxing, which Jack was pretty sure was the whole point. Davey could insist the techniques had some magical quality all he wanted, but Jack was convinced that just staying calm was the real trick.

The tingle had pooled at the base of his spine. It wanted to spread, but Jack took another breath. In through the mouth. Hold. Out through the nose. He rolled his shoulders and relaxed the muscles in his back. The tingle grew weaker. It was still there, but easy enough to ignore.

He opened his eyes and looked at Davey who was staring at his phone.

“Oh, very nice, you aren’t even paying attention to me?”

Davey looked up. “You should be focusing on your breathing.”

“Yeah, I think I got it.”

“Really?”

“I was actually pretty sure I had it last month, I just didn’t want to show up Race.”

Davey gave him a look. “I’ll believe that if you can make it to morning without changing.”

Jack sighed and closed his eyes. He rolled his shoulders back, popping his back. He tensed his lower back a little, drawing some of the tingle out of the base of his spine, and then tensed the muscles in his right arm, guiding the tingle into it. He focused on the muscles in his wrist and hand, picturing the tingle washing over them like water. He felt his arm twist and change. He opened his eyes and looked down, watching as fur grew along his hand and his nails stiffened. He relaxed it, holding the change where it was.

“See?” Jack held his half-hand half-claw up in front of Davey, and then relaxed, letting the tingle run like water back to the base of his spine and returning his hand to normal. “I’ve got this.”

Davey started to say something, but Jack cut him off. “Here, I can give you more proof.”

Jack tensed his muscles, drawing the tingle into his body and submerging himself in it. A few rapid pops and twists and he fell forward onto his forepaws, the change complete. He looked Davey in the eye, and then relaxed. The tingle was hard to feel once you’d changed, but he pictured it as a pool of water and pictured himself standing up out of it, letting it run off his body. He found the tingle in his paw tips first and directed it back down his spine into its place at the base. He didn’t break eye contact with Davey until he was human again.

“Convinced yet?”

Davey stared at him, his mouth gaping open, before jumping up and yanking him into a hug.

“Jack, that’s incredible!”

“Alright. Take it easy. I just had a good teacher is all.”

Davey kissed him.

Jack leaned in, deepening the kiss.

Davey pulled back before things could go too far though. “As much as I want to continue this, we’re in my parent’s house and my mom will definitely be able to hear, not to mention smell, if we go any farther.”

Jack wrinkled his nose. It was bad enough hearing his brother and Race going at it. He did not feel up to performing for Davey’s parents. “Yeah, fair enough. So what now?”

“Now you put your clothes on, and then I guess we help my mom with dinner?”

Mrs. Jacobs had been a little confused when Jack walked into the kitchen on two legs. She and Davey had some sort of silent conversation with just their eyes. Davey’s mom didn’t need any help with dinner, but she set them to chopping up some bread and lettuce for the Thanksgiving stuffing.

Jack heard the front door open and someone stomp into the house and down the hall, he looked up from the celery in front of him to Davey across the kitchen island.

“My little brother Les,” Davey said.

“About time he got home from band practice,” Mrs. Jacobs said. “Your father should be back with your sister and her girlfriend soon too. Why don’t you take Jack and set the table?”

Davey nodded and pulled Jack away from the mostly chopped celery and over to a cupboard. He handed a stack of plates and then some napkins to Jack and then grabbed silverware out of a drawer. They walked into the dining room and started setting the table.

“I can’t help but notice that there’s only six chairs, Davey. Does that mean that I get to sit in your lap?”

“As much as my parents would hate that, we do own extra chairs. We’ll just have to squeeze a little on—” 

Davey was cut off when a short missile launched itself onto Davey, wrapping arms around his waist. “David!”

Davey stumbled against the table, dropping the silverware in his hands all over it. “Les!”

Jack laughed.

The small missile, about the same height as Jack’s little sister, detached from around Davey and turned to face Jack. “So you’re Jack?” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Les.”

Jack reached out and shook it. “How old are you, kid?”

“I’m eleven.” His face turned serious and his grip increased. Jack guessed he was doing his best to appear intimidating. It was adorable. “So just what are your intentions toward my brother?”

Jack forced himself not to laugh, though learning to control the change had been easier. “Well, I can promise you my intentions are entirely honorable.”

Les ended the handshake with one final squeeze. “They’d better be. I’m watching you.” He pointed at his own eyes with two fingers and then pointed them at Jack.

Jack gave the most solemn nod he could muster, ignoring the fact that Davey, standing behind Les, was shaking in silent laughter.

Les spun around and hugged Davey again. “You and Sarah have been gone forever. You weren’t even here when I challenged for second chair!”

Davey wrapped an arm around his little brother’s shoulders and shoved the pile of silverware toward Jack. “Well, I’m here now. Did you get it?”

“I sure did! I’m going to challenge for first chair next semester, Austin won’t know what hit him.”

Jack sorted the utensils out and started putting them around the plates on the table. “What instrument do you play, Les?”

“Trumpet! You want to hear?”

Jack looked at Davey, who shook his head. “Maybe later, kid. We’re here until Sunday after all.”

“Why don’t you go get Mom’s sewing chair so Jack will have somewhere to sit?” Davey asked.

Les nodded and bolted out of the room.

“He’s energetic,” Jack said.

“You have no idea.” Davey took the rest of the silverware out of Jack’s hands, and together they finished setting the table before Les was back with a chair almost as big as he was.

Jack and Davey returned to the kitchen to finish the chopping they’d abandoned. Les followed and hovered around his brother, watching him cut a loaf of bread into small cubes as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Mrs. Jacobs turned the stove down and frowned at the clock on the wall. “David, call your sister and ask her where they are. They should have been home twenty minutes ago.”

Davey pulled his phone out and called someone, putting the phone to his ear.

Jack tensed his back and focused on his ear, drawing a tiny bit of the tingle up into it. He felt the shape of his ear change as his hearing sharpened. He could hear the phone ringing and then heard someone answer it.

“What, Day?”

“Mom wants to know what’s taking so long, she’s holding dinner.”

“We were stuck at baggage claim for a while, we’re on our way to the car now.”

“What? You didn’t even check a bag when you moved out there.”

“Kath had two bags, just two. She believes in being prepared.”

“Wow! You’re oboroten?” Les said near Jack’s shifted ear. He’d been so focused on eavesdropping he didn’t notice Les moving over and his voice was almost a shout.

“Shi… oot, kid. Don’t yell in my ear like that.” Jack said, shoving the tingle down and returning his ear to normal while he rubbed it.

Les tugged on Davey’s sleeve. “David, you didn’t tell me he was one of us.”

Davey put his hand over the bottom of the phone and glanced at Les. “Technically you aren’t even one of us yet.”

Les stuck his tongue out at his big brother and turned back to Jack. “This is so cool, now we won’t have to hide all weekend.”

“Your sister’s girlfriend is still human, so don’t get too excited,” Mrs. Jacobs said.

“Awww… that sucks.”

“Language young man, and we’ve had to pretend around your bandmates often enough, you can pretend for your sister. Besides, their flight back to Phoenix is on Saturday, so if you’re good I’ll let you bother Jack after that.”

Les sat down on a stool and pouted. If Jack’s ear wasn’t still ringing he’d think it was adorable.

Davey hung up the phone. “They’re leaving the airport now, but Saz said there’s a lot of traffic so it might be a while.”

Mrs. Jacobs rolled her eyes. “Well, no point in waiting then. They can have leftovers when they get here.” She turned the stove off and moved the pot to an unused burner. “Go wash up boys.”

They were finishing up a dinner consisting of a thick homemade soup, with a lot of meat, Jack noticed, and fresh bread when they heard the garage door open.

Mrs. Jacobs stood up. “Les, clear the table. I’ll go warm up some leftovers for them.”

“Why doesn’t David have to help?”

“Because he and Jack set the table, but they can help with your sister and her girlfriend’s luggage.”

Jack nodded and jumped to his feet. He started to take a step, then realized he didn’t know where to go. “Uh, where will they be coming in?”

Davey wiped his face with his napkin and stood up. “This way. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on your chance to be an aspiring bellhop.”

“Hey, I’m an art major, I need something to fall back on.”

Davey grabbed his hand and pulled him through the kitchen and down a short hallway to a room with a washer and dryer and a door that was just opening. A man who looked far too young to be Davey’s father, if it wasn’t for the fake gray applied to his hair came in with a large pink suitcase clutched in one hand and a large purple suitcase clutched in the other.

Davey released Jack’s hand and took the purple suitcase from his father. “Let us help you with those.”

Jack stepped forward and Mr. Jacobs narrowed his eyes at him but held the pink suitcase out to him. Jack accepted it and started to turn his back intending to follow Davey when a voice caught him off guard.

“Jack?”

He looked behind Davey’s father and caught sight of the last person he would have expected to find in Davey’s house. He almost dropped her suitcase but managed to catch himself at the last moment.

“Katherine?” Jack asked.

“Katherine?” Davey asked.

Jack glanced over to see Davey looking at him for confirmation. He gave the most subtle head nod he could, though he was pretty sure Mr. Jacobs still saw it.

The girl with the dark red hair, in clothes that looked more fashionable than comfortable, moved from the side of a brown-haired girl with the same cheeks as Davey, slipped past Mr. Jacobs, and rushed forward to pull Jack into a hug.

Jack clapped his one free arm around her and hugged her back. He hadn’t seen her in almost two years. He was shocked to see her at all, although with the way his life had been going since meeting Davey, he figured he really shouldn’t have been. He should have been thrilled to see her, was thrilled to an extent, but between knowing what he did about her father and both of them being there with new partners left him feeling rather hollow. He wasn’t sure how else to describe the rest of his feelings except shocked.

He drew the tingle into the depths of his nose and took a whiff. It wasn’t as intense, but her smell had some of the same fishy undertones as the Delanceys, and Spot now that he thought about it. In his brother’s case, he’d just assumed it was the fish oil he took with all his workout supplements.

“Kath?” The girl who was definitely Davey’s sister asked as she walked up to them.

Katherine released Jack and threw an arm around the girl. “Sarah, this is Jack. We dated in high school.” Her eyes shifted from Sarah back to Jack. “What are you doing here?”

Jack took a step back threw his free arm around Davey’s shoulders. “I’m dating Davey here.” He turned his attention back to Davey, and hoped Davey was the only one who could see the spooked look in his eyes. “Davey, this is Katherine. I’ve mentioned her a few times.”

Davey blinked and seemed to get a hold of himself and held his hand out to her. “Of course. Pleasure to meet you.”

They shook and then Sarah held her hand out to Jack. “Nice to meet you too, Jack.”

Jack set the pink suitcase down and shook Sarah’s hand. She squeezed his, hard. He felt some sharp points on the back of his hand and wondered if those were just her nails or if she was risking claws in front of Katherine. When she finally released him he shook his hand out. “That’s some grip you got there.” He picked the pink bag back up. “So where are Davey and I taking these?”


End file.
